


Bellarke Shorts

by Bittyab18



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke AUs, Bellarke One Shots, F/M, Gen, I will add tags and characters as I post, Multi, One Night Stand AU, Other, Series of one shots and drabbles, Underage Drinking, bellarke drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittyab18/pseuds/Bittyab18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of one-shots based on Tumblr prompts while I wait for inspiration to boom on my other unfinished Bellarke works, because I’m Bellarke trash. My dabbles in drabbles, if you will…</p><p>These posts are unrated for now. I may or may not include some that are smutty. I'm not sure right now. I like writing smut. It's fun, but I'm never able to write smutty one-shots, so I'm not sure if I'll wind up doing it. If I do, I will put it in the chapter summary or the notes for anyone who doesn't want to read smut.</p><p>I will add tags and characters and relationships with each one-shot that I post. I also might adapt the prompts as needed.</p><p>Chapter 1 is the table of contents with rating for the one-shot in parentheses. </p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Table of Contents

["It's nice to meet you, I guess."](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6353251/chapters/14554690) (T+) -- ‘we’re at a house party and I just tripped and fell backwards onto your lap. It’s nice to meet you, I guess?’ 


	2. 'It's nice to meet you, I guess."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets drunk at a house party after a 'breakup' with Lexa. She trips and lands in the lap of a hot guy, and they hook up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: ‘we’re at a house party and I just tripped and fell backwards onto your lap. It’s nice to meet you, I guess?’
> 
> Rated T+

Clarke would be the first to admit she was a little wasted. Okay, she was a lot wasted. She was currently stumbling through some house that was off-campus, red solo cup in hand, and she was wasted. Her blonde curls were plastered to her cheeks, and she was sure that her eyeliner was running, but that was more from the tears than the heat of a large number of bodies in an enclosed space. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark head of hair headed her way, and she felt the clench of panic fill her belly. It made her stomach churn, a sour taste filling her mouth, and she placed a hand to her chest, willing herself to not upchuck in the middle of the crowded living room. The thrum of music pounded an unrelenting beat through her head, pearls of sweat trickling down her back and between her breasts. The wave of nausea passed, along with the fear, when the dark-haired individual turned out to be the wrong color. The hair was almost black, and the slope of the nose different, the upturn of the lips not the same, and the body too muscular. The girl pushed past her, giving her a curious look, likely because Clarke was gaping at her. Clarke closed her eyes, raising the solo cup to her lips, and she takes another long gulp of the mixture that was mainly vodka and very little orange juice.

She continued on, stumbling through the house, looking for a familiar face to hide away with, to drink away her problems with. Unfortunately, she’d lost sight of her friends; Monty had snuck off somewhere with a guy with tanned skin, scruff on his chin, and a beanie on his head. (Who wears a beanie inside of a hot house party?) Jasper was doing shots with Fox and Harper in the kitchen, getting ready to ‘dominate at drunk twister,’ but really he was likely going to face-plant multiple times and maybe even break his nose. She was alone to wallow in her misery that was a breakup with the upperclassman that had told her that she was beautiful and helped solidify in her mind that she was, in fact, bisexual. The same upperclassman that told her love was weakness and that they were just having fun before shoving her tongue down the throat of a chesty blonde named Olivia.

Clarke stopped dead, raising the cup to her lips once more, grimacing when she realized that she’d drunk the last of it already. How did she drink the last of it without even noticing? Shit, she was drunk. She stumped in the direction of the kegs, planning on filling up on beer, because maybe if she drank beer, she’d plateau in her level of drunkenness. (Later, she’d regret this, because when sober, and very much in pain, she would realize that mixing types of alcohol would only make her feel even worse in the morning.)

She reached the kegs, holding her empty cup out to the guy manning them, a guy with scruffy blonde hair and blue eyes who looked her up and down like she was a meal. She frowned, taking the beer from him and backing away before he could say anything lecherous to her, because he was too blonde and too blue-eyed, and their hookup would make her feel like she was fucking a sibling or a cousin. No, she had a type—dark hair. They had to have dark hair, at least.

Lexa had dark hair, but her eyes were light. They were a blue-green that reminded Clarke of the ocean—beautiful, vast, open, and dangerous as hell. Clarke had gotten lost in Lexa’s eyes, and it’d left her drowned and empty and a shell of herself. Maybe it was just her? Maybe she was the failure? Her relationship with Finn hadn’t fared any better than the one with Lexa. Finn had made her a slut, the other woman, the sidepiece while he had beautiful talks of the future with his _real girlfriend_ , the woman he was supposed to spend his life with.

Clarke raised the cup to her lips, gulping down the bitter beer as she continued to stumble back, away from the blonde man who had moved on to his next victim, a petite redhead wearing a bikini top rather than a real shirt. She stumbled over someone’s foot, and she was falling. Falling down. Thud.

Beer spilled out of the cup and over her hand, and there were arms wrapping around her waist, and she realized that she was sitting on someone. Shit, how embarrassing. She winced as she turned slightly, her eyes landing on a handsome face—tanned skin, dark chocolate eyes watching her with amusement, a wide set nose, full lips with a small scar hooking into his top lip, unruly black hair settling across his forehead, a smattering of freckles that made her fingers itch to trace, and a smirk that was positively sinful. His grasp on her waist was strong, and she saw the bulging of the veins in his arms as he shifted her more firmly onto his lap. His navy blue t-shirt was stretched across his skin, torn and tattered at the neck. He flicked his tongue along his bottom lip, and his eyebrow quirked slightly.

“It’s nice to meet you, I guess?” Clarke stuttered, and he laughed, a deep rumble that set her body ablaze.

“I’m Bellamy.” He pulled the cup from her hands and raised it to his lips, eyes locked with hers the entire time.

“Clarke.” She squeaked, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a swig of her drink.

“Clarke.” He repeated, his voice buttery and smooth and deep and…fuck.

“Clarke?” She jumped, her head turning away from the handsome stranger— _Bellamy_ —and she found herself looking up at Lexa, who crossed her arms as she stared down at Clarke. “What are you doing?”

“She’s hanging out with me.” Bellamy supplied for her when all Clarke could do was gape at her ex...whatever the hell Lexa was. He leaned his chin on her forehead, squeezing her more tightly against his chest with his arm draped possessively across her middle. “You are?”

“Ugh, this is why I never fuck bisexuals. Or freshmen.” Lexa scoffed turning on her heel and storming off, leaving Clarke blushing in Bellamy’s lap like a fool.

“Your ex is a bitch.” Bellamy told Clarke, taking another sip of her beer. “Wanna get out of here?” He cooed into her ear, and the damp heat of his breath against her ear made her shiver. His tongue brushed along the outer edge, and she squirmed in his lap. He groaned hotly against her neck as he sucked on the skin above her pulse. She moaned softly, nails digging into his thigh. “Let’s go, princess.” He stood, bringing her with him, and the only reason why she stayed standing was his grip on her waist. He turned her, his hand moving from her waist to tangle in her hair as he pulled her face to his, kissing her hotly. She moaned against his lips, her own hands settling on his waist. She felt the splatter of lukewarm beer against her legs and the bare skin not covered by her flip-flops. He’d dropped the cup of beer to palm her ass over her jean shorts, and, okay, yeah, they needed to get somewhere more private.

“My dorm is two blocks away.” She said, breaking the kiss, and he grinned, stepping away from her. He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her in the direction of the door.

“Lead the way, babe.” He said when they got outside, but before she could even do that, he was pressing her against the wall just beside the door, kissing her firmly, his body pressed against hers. She moaned against his lips, her hands tangled in his hair. He ground his hips against hers, and she tucked a leg over his calf, shifting her body to let him settle into the cradle of her hips. “Fuck…I might fuck you here, in front of everyone.” He growled against her lips. She whimpered, pushing at his chest and dropping her foot from his leg.

“I’ve got a single room.” Clarke told Bellamy, slipping around him to make her way down the front steps, and she giggled when he grabbed her around the waist, pressing a series of noisy kisses against her cheek and neck as they stumbled along the walkway towards the street.

* * *

 

Clarke woke, body and head aching, nausea filling her belly. She opened her eyes, wincing at the bright light that was coming in her window, and she tightened the sheet to her chest as she carefully sat up. “Did I wake you?” The handsome man from the night before…Brian? Bobby? No, Bellamy…Bellamy, from the night before, was pulling his jeans up over his boxers, top half still clothing-free. She blushed when she saw the red lines down his back as he zipped and buttoned his jeans—lines made by her nails as he fucked her so amazingly that she saw stars and could hear nothing beyond the blood rushing in her ears.

“No, but the hangover did.” She said after a moment, and he chuckled, reaching down to grab his threadbare t-shirt from where it was piled on the floor—beside her thong that he’d removed with his teeth.

“Nothing a little coffee and a greasy breakfast won’t cure.” He said, pulling the shirt over his head. He stepped into his shoes, not bothering to tie them before he walked back to the bed and gave her a truly dirty kiss that left her breathless. “Last night was fun, princess. It was great meeting you.” He winked as he pulled back, walking towards her door. “See you around.” She blushed, watching him go before she fell back into her pillows, grimacing at the way they smelled of sex, sweat, and men’s cologne. That was so not how she was planning on spending her night.

 


End file.
